To have and to hold

Therefore I write bad poetry

Rapping rhapsodies of representations, remonstrations, and ruminations.

I’ve been meaning to ask you.

Half-way through, I stopped for your answer:

To start anew, or to finish the question?

Perhaps this silence makes half of the answer.

 

I feel like water seeping through your cloth.

Did I soak your body in a warm embrace?

As the dry wind carried me away I prayed

That you’d cry and lend me your tears

In the river we’d flow.